


The Untold Want

by needleandspoon



Series: 3 Lies [3]
Category: U2
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-29
Updated: 2007-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleandspoon/pseuds/needleandspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bono falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Untold Want

**Author's Note:**

> Written in collaboration with my girl, Melissa2U.

"Fuck!"

Bono picked himself up from the hotel room floor, swearing under his breath, and dusted non-existent dust from his backside. He peered down at his feet to see what the hell it was he'd tripped over. It didn't seem possible that the pencil sitting innocently on the carpet had caused his downfall, but it was the only thing there. Bono picked it up and gave it a savage toss across the room. It didn't do much to help his mood.

"That'll teach it."

"Fuckin' hell, Edge. What are you doing sneaking up on me?" Bono let him past and shut the door behind him.

"Just getting in?" Edge asked.

"Yeah. What of it?" Bono narrowed his eyes at him. "Aren't you up kind of early yourself? It's not even nine."

"It's half eight." Edge turned to look at him, lifting an eyebrow. "You look rested. Like shit, but rested."

He sounded polite and reasonable. Too polite and reasonable. Bono rubbed his temples, trying to push the headache away. "You don't look rested at all," he said irritably. He fixed his eyes on the bedroom door, the door he'd have to pass Edge to get to. Edge, who wasn't moving. A worry began to gnaw at the back of Bono's mind. "Am I late for something?"

Edge rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, Bono."

"Will I be if I go to bed for a few hours?" Bono asked suspiciously.

"No."

Bono frowned. "Then what is it?"

"How was your night?" Edge asked, far too blandly.

"Yeah, quiet," Bono lied, well aware he was very bad at it and yet unable to stop himself.

"And Adam?"

That was Edge, never afraid to come straight to the point, even when it was none of his business. Memories, hot, intense images of the night before, were spinning through Bono's mind, while he cast about for something non-committal to say.

"Edge, if it's small talk you were after, can we do it after I've had some sleep? I'm buggered." Not for the first time in his life, Bono wished he'd been born with some kind of brain-to-mouth filter.

Edge's right eyebrow flickered. "Why don't we sit down?" he said.

Bono thought about that. And he thought about how sore he still was after last night. Possibly sitting wasn't in his near future.

"Edge..." Bono pouted and stumbled over to the sofa. This was not what he had in mind. He decided that if he'd known Edge was going to be waiting for him, he'd have found somewhere else to sleep.

The sofa looked comfortable, overstuffed just the right amount, and the perfect size for Bono to stretch out on his stomach, using his crossed arms for a pillow. Let Edge sit if he wanted.

 _Mmm... much better_. Bono wriggled and sighed and made himself quite comfortable face down. Fuck, he was worn out. Adam always wore him out. He could hardly keep his eyes open; Adam never let him rest for long before wanting more. Bono yawned. Edge was still there, sitting now, but still watching him as far as he could tell.

But he wasn't saying anything.

Bono's last thought before he went to sleep was that perhaps there was something he should have said.

***

He awoke with a thud, carpeting under his back. After a few seconds, the ceiling came into focus, along with the legs of the coffee table and the front of the sofa. Sitting up was another round of disorientation - his head was throbbing.

Bono was halfway to the bathroom when he remembered Edge, but a quick scan of the room, as well as the bedroom, came up empty. Calling his name out a few times didn't work either. Edge had left. Piss, then worry about it.

Stretching made his back pop in the most satisfying way. Bono smiled to himself as he headed for the loo again. He was still tired, but it was that good, relaxing tired. The kind Adam excelled at producing. Adam. Who'd still been asleep when Bono had slipped out from under his arm and out of his bed. Regretful, but necessary.

Bono's hand was still on his cock, still aiming for the toilet bowl, when he noticed the large piece of paper taped to the wall over the toilet.

"CALL ME. NOW.  
Love, The Edge."

So, Mr. The Edge was giving orders now, was he? Bono plucked the note from the wall, briefly considered flushing it, but tossed it beside the sink instead. He was going to have a bath, get his head together, and then he might think about calling.

When he was good and ready.

The bath was reasonably restorative, the tea and cigarette he had between rummaging for clothes to wear more so. The headache was down to a faint throbbing behind his eyes, but still, the shades were going to be a necessity. If only he could find them.

Which he couldn't. But opening a suitcase to look for another pair revealed another note.

"I said NOW, you bastard.  
Love, The Edge."

This was unsettling. Bono looked over his shoulder, half-expecting Edge to be standing there with his arms crossed. He balled up the note, picked up the sunglasses and slipped them on. Better. Much better. Although now his room key was lost.

"Lost, or Edge took it," Bono mumbled to himself. He wouldn't be surprised.

He supposed he'd better call the bossy little prick. There was no note on the phone, as much as Bono half-expected there to be, but the room key was there, anchored under one corner of the phone where even he couldn't fail to find it. He called Edge's room.

Edge picked up after an excessive number of rings - at least five. Bono could hear Bob Marley playing in the background of Edge's hello.

"It's me," Bono said. He was smiling, but Edge didn't need to know that.

"Finally," Edge replied.

"I got your notes," Bono said into the small silence. "There are days when I think you know me entirely too well."

"And days when I don't know you at all." Oh, the layers and nuances Edge could put into a few short words.

"So," he said, ignoring the jab for the moment, "you requested - and so politely too - that I call?"

"Come up to the roof with me."

"Gonna throw me off it?"

There was a little pause. "Probably not. This time."

"Feel like standing on the edge again?"

Edge gave a soft, exasperated snort. "I feel like breakfast."

Bono's stomach definitely agreed with that idea, while his mind lurched over the implication. "Isn't it too late for breakfast?"

"It's a quarter to eleven, Bono."

Evidently not. "All right. I'll be 'round."

He hung up before Edge could answer; it'd probably be some slight on Bono's timekeeping abilities, or lack thereof. The phone rang three times more -- Paul, Sheila, Jerry -- four, actually, if he counted Fintan who'd dialled the wrong room, all of which needed dealing with before he could leave the room, which also meant he was so distracted that he was in the hallway with the door swinging shut behind him before he realised the key was still where Edge had left it. In the room.

Damn.

He shouldered through just in time, banging his elbow in the process and fuck-fuck-fucking some more. If he didn't know better he'd have sworn doors and doorways were out to get him. Finally, sunglasses on, key in pocket, and more questions than he knew what to do with in his head, Bono made it into the lift. The couple already in the lift ignored him; he wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed by that. He was definitely annoyed when the lift stopped just one floor above his own, but the sight of someone, unmistakably Larry even from this distance, entering Adam's room swept the irritation away and left puzzlement in its wake.

It troubled him all the way up to the rooftop terrace.

Edge was already there, of course, looking cool and unflustered as he tipped a wall-eyed young waiter and sent him on his way. Clearly, Bono's lateness was no surprise. Edge flashed half a smile in Bono's direction when their eyes met across the open space.

Bono gestured around at the table for two set with flowers and a vast spread of breakfast. "You're getting better at this rock star thing."

"Wouldn't want to get too good at it," Edge shot back.

"That's what Larry says," Bono answered, and instantly regretted it. He didn't need to be thinking about Larry anymore; something told him he would need all his wits about him to deal with Edge.

There were millions of reasons why Larry would let himself into Adam's room. Thousands of reasons why he'd do so if Adam wasn't answering the door. Hundreds of reasons why he'd want to see Adam before noon. Dozens of reasons that wouldn't have to do with the looks Larry was shooting them last night.

"Are you here?"

"Where else would I be, The Edge?"

Edge _hmmed_ a non-response and walked to the table. "You hungry?" he asked as he sat.

Bono was. Everything Edge had ordered smelt great and suddenly he was ravenous. He dropped into the seat opposite Edge and started piling random bits on his plate. He could smell something else too, overlaying the food, something dark and rich and forbidden...

Oh yes. "Coffee!"

Edge batted Bono's hand away from the pot. "Mine." He picked it up and poured some into his own cup. "There's tea for you."

Bono shot him a look. "I'll have orange juice."

"Whatever you like." From under the shadow of his hat, Edge's eyes were dark and unreadable.

Bono ate and drank and waited for the other shoe to drop.

The last bit of egg had been soaked up by toast, the sausages and bacon long devoured, the orange juice - and tea - gone, and Bono was still hungry. He eyed the glistening platter of fruit that had been set before them. Strawberries, orange slices, cherries, grapes, melon...

"So." Edge had set down his cup and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

Knowing something was coming didn't necessarily translate to actually being prepared for it. Bono sighed and picked up a strawberry, the fruit no longer looking as sweet. "So."

Edge leant back further in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. He plucked a grape from the platter and tossed it in the air, catching it precisely between his teeth. It popped into his mouth with a soft, wet noise.

"I'm not going to apologise for it, y'know," Bono told him.

Edge shrugged. "No one asked you to."

"Then what's all this about, The Edge?" The urge to get up, to move, was almost irresistible but there was something about the look in Edge's eyes that kept him still. Annoyance burned at the back of his mind. "You've clearly formed an opinion about this, so let's be having it."

"It's none of my business who you fuck," Edge said evenly.

"Finally, something we agree on." Bono bit into the strawberry, but it was tart and unripe, no matter how red it was. He dropped the other half back on his plate and sighed. "So, what are we doing here then?"

"I believe it's called eating."

Irritation flared higher. He wasn't in the mood for this. Sparring with Edge could be one of life's great pleasures, but not when his head still ached. Edge should really know better; Bono had a sneaking suspicion that Edge was well aware of how bad the timing was for Bono and that he'd chosen the moment anyway.

The bit of orange, or maybe it was tangerine, he popped into his mouth was tasteless.

"There was a point you wanted to make, The Edge."

"You weren't very concerned about that when I first tried to talk to you," came the very matter-of-fact answer. "Why the rush now?"

Bono was sure, deep down, that Edge fully intended that little barb to hurt. There'd been too many times he'd intruded on Edge's time, too many times he'd all but demanded Edge's attention - all right, he did demand a lot of Edge's attention - for him to not know that in comparison, Edge asked very little of him. Putting Edge off was bad enough, doing it so that Edge was... upset, annoyed - whatever he was - enough to intentionally be mean in return...

Studying the platter, Bono softened. Just a little, no need to take all the blame for being a bastard if Edge was still going to be touchy. "You've my full attention now."

"Are you in love with him?"

There it was, the other shoe, as expected. Bono shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. He had his mouth open to give the first glib and obvious answer that sprang to mind, and then stopped.

Edge deserved better.

Bono thought about it, about Adam and the two of them and the four of them and what it all meant to him. "Adam's my friend," he said at last, "and I love him and the sex is -- actually you don't need to know about the sex -- but, no, I'm not in love with him." He leant forward and propped his elbows on the table, sending Edge what he hoped was a wryly charming smile. "He's not in love with me either, can you believe that?"

"I know he's not," Edge said solemnly, seemingly unaffected by Bono's attempted wiles.

"Then why'd you ask?" It was sharper than he'd intended. He was thinking of apologising when the chance was gone.

"I'd like to know what changed." A shiny green melon ball disappeared into Edge's mouth. "Last you'd told me, your game with Adam was finished."

"It's not a game," Bono shot back.

"Mm-hmm." Another piece of melon, ruby red this time, popped into Edge's hard mouth.

Bono tried not to lose his temper - God knew he was trying - but Edge wasn't making it easy on him. If anything, it was like he wanted to argue. Bono drew out a little cigar, then patted his pockets to find the lighter. It was a better alternative to watching Edge stare at him.

The lighter was jammed in the bottom of the front pocket of his jeans, of course, because it was turning out to be that sort of day. He stood up to fish it out. Standing was better, he thought, lighting the cigarillo, further from the questions in Edge's eyes. Moving would be better still.

He paced away from the table and over to the terrace railing to stare out over the ocean. When the hell had this all got so serious anyway? The thing with Adam was only ever meant to be a bit of fun, broaden his horizons with someone who wasn't going to get hurt or imagine himself in love.

A thought struck him out of the blue and he turned to find Edge standing right behind him.

"How do you know Adam's not in love with me?"

Edge shrugged. "It wouldn't have lasted so long if he was."

Bono was stunned. Not that he thought Edge was wrong, or even because Edge was right. It was that Edge wasn't guessing. There'd been no hesitation, no doubt in his soft, precise voice. He knew. Moreover, he knew something Bono had prided himself on for keeping secret for a long time.

"How..."

It was a question that didn't deserve to be finished, much less answered. Bono could see it all over Edge's face, even with Edge leaning a bit too far for comfort over the railing. He'd been around them too long. Bono's temper slipped away. Good old Edge, always the smart one, looking out for them.

"You told me a few months ago. When you were pissed."

Bono took a long drag from his smoke and squinted at Edge. "I did not."

"You did." Edge turned and leant back on his elbows against the railing. "It was after that party, the one on the yacht."

"The one with the Renoir sketch in the loo?" If he was remembering right, it had been a fantastically tacky night.

Edge smirked. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Bloody hell, I was really drunk that night."

"That's what I've been telling you."

"And we had a conversation about me and Adam? One that I have absolutely no memory of?" It seemed unlikely. Yes, he'd been thoroughly shit-faced, but he thought he remembered that night pretty well, in all its gilded, over-decorated glory. "You wouldn't be having me on, would you, Edge?" He took a last drag of smoke and stubbed the butt out in a nearby potted plant. "A little revenge, maybe, for me being such a pain in the backside lately?"

And there it was. Edge's patented eyeroll. It made Bono's stomach turn over; he barely heard Edge's words. "Why would I make it up?"

Edge wasn't lying. He really had told him, but why? What on Earth possessed him to do that? He'd promised Adam, he'd sworn, and he'd taken pride in knowing he'd never betrayed him. An urge to talk to Adam - right now - came over him. Talk, explain, apologize, warn...

"Maybe we should sit down?" Edge suggested gently. "I hadn't realised you didn't remember."

"Not a fucking thing." Bono sat down heavily in the nearest chair. He pulled off his sunglasses, rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Really?"

Edge pulled up the other chair and sat close enough that his knee pressed up against Bono's. "'fraid so."

"Detail?" It wasn't often Bono was embarrassed, but Christ, he could feel himself blushing now.

Edge reached out and covered Bono's hand with his own, squeezing gently. "Not much."

Oh great. "Not much?"

"Nothing you should worry about." Edge rubbed his thumb in circles on the side of Bono's hand.

It didn't stop him worrying. "I really shouldn't drink so much." He turned his palm up and threaded his fingers through Edge's. "Does Adam know you know?"

"Of course not." Edge sounded hurt; Bono couldn't bring himself to look at anything other than their hands. "You asked me not to."

Edge kept his promises. But Bono hadn't kept his to Adam. "Thanks."

It was tricky with Adam, a careful facade of parries and dodges, smoke and mirrors, fuck and run and hold back without being too dishonest. Thinking about it now, Bono felt tired. Yet instead of the sated exhaustion of a night well spent, it was the weariness of a soldier, knowing the war will never be won but unable to turn away from each new battle. He didn't love him, even though he loved him.

Edge squeezed his hand. "You said you couldn't do it anymore," he said quietly. "But last night, you started it."

"I'm not ashamed of what I've done with him." The remains of tobacco smoke tasted like ashes on his tongue. "Adam's a good man."

"He is, yeah. But you said yourself, he's never going to settle down and be happy if he has you to fall back on when he gets too empty."

Bono almost dropped the sunglasses. "I said that?"

"Among other things, yeah."

"Great," Bono sighed, putting the glasses back on. This was just getting better and better. Not only did Adam know - intimately - what a bastard he'd been, now Edge did as well. How long was it going to be before Larry knew it too? It was all such a fucking mess. And it was entirely possible the worst was yet to come.

"Hey." Edge's free hand clasped Bono's shoulder. "Stop beating yourself up."

Bono managed a ghost of a smile. "Saving that pleasure for yourself?"

Another eyeroll and a shake of Edge's head. "Don't you go turning this into one of your melodramas, B."

The understanding in Edge's eyes was more than Bono could bear. He reached out and pulled Edge into a hug, holding him close.

"How do you explain need?" Bono said at last. Edge was rubbing small circles into his back and it felt wonderful, comforting. He nestled closer into the warmth of Edge's slim, strong body. "It was never supposed to be this complicated," Bono said, sighing again. "It was just...sex. I wanted him and he wanted me and no one was supposed to get hurt by it."

"Except that you've never been able to do 'just sex'," Edge whispered, turning his face to Bono's neck, his breath warm and damp on Bono's skin. "You never have."

Bono smiled weakly against Edge's shoulder. "You really do know me entirely too well." He felt a puff of breath on his skin that could only be Edge laughing silently. "I'm not at all sure this is a good thing."

"Don't worry, I love you anyway, despite your many and numerous eccentricities," Edge said lightly, but there was something in his tone that made Bono lift his head and look at him.

Edge's face was tilted to one side, his lips were parted and wet, as if he'd just licked them, and Bono was struck with the sudden, almost irresistible urge to kiss him. He pulled back, just enough; his irresistible urges were what had gotten him in this mess to begin with. He couldn't fuck up like that with Edge. Not with him too.

"Do you still want him?" Edge asked, before Bono could say anything.

For a second, Bono thought he'd heard another question entirely. One that would have had a completely different answer, he realised with a kind of shock that wasn't really a shock at all. He stopped and thought about Edge's question seriously. But, in the end, the answer was very simple. "Not if it's hurting him," Bono said. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was cause him pain or stand in the way of him being happy."

"I know," Edge said, slipping one hand up to cup Bono's cheek. “That’s what you told me on the yacht.”

Guilt and desire twisted uneasily in Bono's gut. He'd always loved Edge more than he should have. Now wasn't the time to pursue that. "How about we get out of here?" he said, easing out of Edge's arms and getting to his feet. "It's supposed to be our day off." He held out a hand to Edge. "Let's do something fun."

"Should I be afraid?"

Laughing was good. Edge was good. The sun, the air, the man holding the door for them, everything was good. For thirty seconds. Or, Bono ruefully amended, thirty point six seconds in Edge time.

"Larry will be talking with Adam this morning."

Eight words, delivered casually, that blasted the warmth from Bono. Whether he was lucky that Edge caught him before he tumbled down the steps was a matter of perspective.

"He will?" Bono was cool, serene, and utterly false, but sometimes pretending made him a better man.

Whereas Edge didn't have to pretend; he never did. "Yeah. You don't have to worry about it. Just thought you'd want to know." He offered a smile and pressed the button for the lift. "So where are we going?"

"Talking to him, or _talking_ to him?" Bono couldn't help asking.

Edge raised an eyebrow by way of an answer.

"Adam and _Larry_?" Bono wanted to leave it alone, but there were days when he just opened his mouth and things came out. Still, he thought he did a pretty good job of sounding casual.

Edge pinned a long, considering look on him. "You're really worried about this, aren't you?"

Okay, so possibly he'd failed at sounding casual. Didn't mean he couldn't still try. "Of course not. Just a bit surprised, is all." He raked his hair back with his fingers. "Kinda sudden, isn't it?"

Edge blinked at him. "This really isn't a conversation we should be having in public. How about we go back to my room instead and you can obsess about it to your heart's content?"

The lift doors finally opened and Bono waved Edge through with a slightly mocking flourish.

"I'm not obsessing about it," Bono muttered as he passed.

Of course, he _was_ , in fact, obsessing, and if he hadn't been, perhaps he would have paid more attention to the process of stepping into the lift and not tripped and not gone careering into Edge's arms.

"I always knew you'd fall for me," Edge said wryly, then laughed as he helped Bono right himself.

"A joke like that would get me kicked out of the band," Bono groaned, letting Edge steady him.

"Only if you tried it."

Impulsively, Bono kissed Edge's cheek. "I trust you won't be trying to get rid of me."

Edge looked at him for what seemed a long time, his eyes travelling over Bono's face. "No," he said at last, "that wouldn't be high on my list." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bono's mouth, soft and dry and completely chaste except for the tiny shiver Bono felt run through Edge's body.

Edge let him go and pushed the lift button for his floor, looking as calm and unruffled as if nothing had happened. Perhaps it hadn't.

"You're doing that a lot lately," Edge said as the lift moved slowly down.

"Kissing people?" Bono blurted before he could think.

"Falling."

Bono thought about that. He thought about a lot of things in the space of a small moment. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I have." He looked over at Edge and waited until he looked back. "I think it's a sign."

"You and your signs..." Edge was smiling at him, amused and affectionate all at once.

"The Lord moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform," Bono shot back with a grin.

Edge rolled his eyes theatrically. "If you're going to quote Cowper at me, at least get it right."

"I did," Bono said indignantly.

"You did not."

They bickered good-naturedly all the rest of the way down to Edge's floor. It was normal and familiar, or it might have been if it wasn't for the growing certainty Bono could feel that something large and real and incredibly important was changing.

Housekeeping hadn't been by Edge's room yet, allowing Bono the interesting puzzle that was Edge's coffee table. Empty beer bottles, two glasses with maybe a drop of orange juice between them, a sadly decimated fifth of vodka, and a dangerously close to overflowing ashtray.

"Company last night, Reg?"

"Yeah." Apologetic, Edge picked up a waste bin. "Housekeeping still hasn’t been. Do you want something to drink? There's water and juice in the fridge."

"No, thanks." Bono sat on the sofa and watched Edge carefully set the bottles in the trash, barely clinking them together. That Edge hadn't volunteered who his companion had been wasn't lost to Bono. Whoever it was smoked the same cigarettes as Edge. He didn't want to ask - Edge would think he was still obsessing - but- Edge _had_ brought up Larry earlier. It would be perfectly normal for them to hang out; nothing they’d not done before. He could see them, getting pissed together, Larry making plans, Edge offering to help...

"What's going on, Edge?"

Ash blew up in a small cloud as Edge emptied the ashtray into the bin. "It's not my story to tell," he said quietly. "Larry just needed to talk."

Bono watched as Edge set the ashtray down again, trying to read him, trying to catch what was hiding in those sharp eyes of his, but Edge was looking everywhere but at him. "And you?" Bono asked. Suspicion was chilling him like a cold shroud.

Edge looked towards him at last, poker-faced. "Me?"

Irritation flared. "What's your part in all this?"

"All what?" The impassiveness on Edge's face creased into confusion.

"This is all some little scheme to keep me out of the way while Larry makes a move on Adam, isn't it?" _Idiot_. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could un-say them. But it was too late.

"Because, of course, I wouldn't want to spend time with you otherwise." Edge's voice was cold and flat. He stalked away towards the balcony doors, tossing his hat into a chair as he passed.

Fuck.

Blinding sunlight poured through the glass as Edge drew the curtains back. "You've nothing to worry about. Larry doesn't care about what you and Adam do."

The hardness hurt. "Edge." Bono's mouth was too dry; he had to clear his throat and lick his lips.

“You know Larry’s been in love with him for ages.” Bono flinched at the accusation that might have been there. He had known, he knew Larry too well not to know, but he’d thought – “Larry’s tired of waiting for Adam to grow up.”

Bono took off the sunglasses and threw them onto the table; if Edge would only look at him now, he’d see he was sincere. “Edge, I’m sorry.”

"Forget it."

"I didn't mean-"

"No, Bono, you _did_ mean it." Edge sounded tired, but the set of his shoulders and the straightness of his back looked like a warning. "You mean a lot of things when you say them and I have a terrible habit of believing you."

"Edge," Bono said, shaken by the pain he could hear in Edge's voice. Before he could even think, he was at Edge's side, pulling him into his arms, dragging his hard, resistant body against his own. "I'm sorry." He buried his face in the crook of Edge's neck, and found himself inexplicably close to tears all of a sudden. "I guess those bastard lessons took a little too well," he said, trying to lighten things. It must have worked, because Edge's arms came around him at last, wrapping loosely around his back. "Edge, you know I love you."

Edge drew back and met his eyes dead on. "You need to stop talking," he breathed in a rough whisper.

The pain was still there, but there was something else there as well now and it wasn't something new but, God, it was and all Bono could do was watch dumbly as Edge leant in closer and closer, so slowly it was like a dream, until finally, _finally_ , his mouth settled gently over Bono's.

Bono could no more have stopped his mouth from opening to it than he could have stopped every nerve in his body from leaping to instant, singing awareness. He didn't know what he'd expected from Edge's kiss; if he'd even ever allowed himself to imagine such an unlikely thing, it had been nothing like this gentle, unhurried ownership, taking him over, easing him from one state of being to another without him really knowing where one finished and the other started.

"Oh God, _Edge_ ," Bono murmured against his lips in the space between one perfect angle and the next.

"Don't talk," Edge growled before he slid his tongue back into Bono's mouth.

Doors opened in Bono's mind, one after another discovered, exposed, and leading deeper, and Edge was managing it effortlessly. He could have forced his way in years ago; Bono was certain he'd have let him, if only Edge had asked.

He wasn't asking now. He eased back to licking just inside Bono's mouth, but when Bono tried to form words, Edge's lips stopped him again. Careful, incessant, and oh so delicate it made his head spin. He held on to Edge's back, afraid to move, to push, to do anything clumsy or oafish or, worse still, break this moment.

And the moment was so fucking perfect, with Edge's graceful hands on him and Edge's lips and tongue and the rough scrape of his beard against Bono's face. Bono felt himself turning malleable, melting against the wiry strength of the body that held him, all sorts of things he'd thought he'd known dissolving into nothing.

It went on a long time, endless, breathless minutes of kisses so slow and sweet it was like moving through warm honey. The effort it took him to hold back and let Edge kiss him the way he wanted to was making Bono tremble. He wanted more, a lot more, but he didn't want to fuck this up either.

Edge slid his hands beneath the tail of Bono's shirt and up his back, warm, rough palms indescribably soft on his skin, trailing fire wherever they touched. Bono pressed closer, finding himself helpless to stop rocking into the hardness he could feel against his own. His whole body was clamouring for more.

"Edge," he whispered in the breath before Edge kissed him again. He wasn't going to be allowed to speak. His own fault, and something he felt guilty over, but not too much. How could he protest Edge continually shutting him up in such a wonderful fashion?

Even when his hips were pushed back - or maybe it was Edge stepping back - he couldn't complain. Edge's kisses were like velvet, honey, silk, dark chocolate, fresh asphalt, and a million other analogies that were forgotten as soon as they came to mind. His hand was firm and sure as it pressed over Bono's groin.

Bono realised it'd be very embarrassing to come from one touch through layers of fabric. Edge told him not to talk; he didn't say anything about retaliating. He traced the outline of Edge's hard cock, trailing his fingers lightly from balls to tip, over and over again, loving him with just the barest touch of fingertips. All the while, Edge was still kissing him, turning him molten with his lips and the deft stroke of his own fingers on Bono's cock.

And then Edge wasn't touching him through fabric anymore; he'd opened Bono's jeans in a single, smooth movement and slipped his hand inside. Bono hissed and shuddered, pressing into it. Fuck, he wanted this, wanted Edge, so badly.

Edge's mouth left his at last, kissed his chin, his jaw, the soft spot beneath his ear that had never been all that erogenous until this very moment, and a dozen other incendiary little places. They were all his now, Bono realised. All this bright, new pleasure was always going to be Edge's, no matter what happened next.

"He doesn't need you anymore," Edge murmured, nuzzling wet kisses down Bono's neck. "Not like me."

"No," Bono agreed, and not just because his cock had been freed and Edge's palm... soft and warm and damp with sweat, stroking loosely, too loosely. "Need you too." It was true, he realised in a rush; it had always been true.

Edge's belt didn't want to cooperate. Neither did his trousers. Edge certainly wasn't helping, sucking at Bono's neck and touching him and Bono couldn't remember ever feeling so desperate to hold another man's cock in his hand. That sharp teeth grazed over his jugular as he succeeded made the victory even sweeter.

"Edge," he rasped against the teeth in his neck. "Edge," he whispered brokenly when his balls were lifted and rolled. "Edge," he breathed in the second before Edge licked across his bottom lip. "Come to bed with me," he begged against Edge's mouth. "Need you so fucking badly."

"Yes," Edge hissed a heartbeat before he plunged his mouth down on Bono's, kissing him hard and fast, devouring him even as he began to walk him backwards toward the bed.

The bed hit behind Bono's knees and he let himself fall, bringing Edge with him, knowing this time he was falling right where he needed to be. Edge's weight was delicious on top of him, even better when that sweet, sharp mouth found his own again.

His feet struggled violently in his effort to rid himself of his shoes. A lone fight as his hands couldn't be bothered to touch anything but Edge. Edge's slender back through the thin cotton of his shirt, Edge's shoulders, his waist, anywhere Bono could reach, preferably all at once. Bono's hips bucked up, pressing and grinding his cock against Edge's, a pain so burning and exquisite he wondered if he'd ever experienced it before.

The moans caressing his ears were high and soft and God, where had those notes been all his life? And when Edge grunted quietly as he pulled Bono's shirt, even that was a sound Bono immediately decided he couldn't get enough of.

He was never going to get enough of any of this. Never. It was so crazily, ridiculously perfect; the sound, the scent, the feel of Edge in his arms, pressed full-length against his body, wanting him, loving him. Loving him back. And then, somehow, they were both naked at last and Bono couldn't help laughing with the sheer joy of it. He was light, high, incandescent.

Edge kissed the laughter from his mouth. "I know," he murmured. "I know."

There was no part of Bono that doubted him. Wrapping himself around every bit of Edge he could reach, Bono just laughed again and kissed him back.

Something in Edge gave, relaxed, and he grinned. A snicker grew into giggles and what the hell, the bed was big enough to really move on. He smiled down at Edge and kissed his laughing mouth, bemused and honoured and overjoyed that despite the bastard Bono couldn't help being sometimes, Edge always forgave him. He ground down, watching Edge's lips as he gasped and the colour that rose on his cheeks.

"Let me," Bono whispered. "Please."

"Yes." The word was just a wisp of sound against Bono's face, but it was enough.

Bono drew back and spread his hand along the rough beauty of Edge's cheekbone, looking down into his eyes. "Do you have any concept of how extraordinary you are?" he asked with a kind of wonder.

The colour in Edge's face heightened, but he didn't look away. "Nothing so special...I just love you."

"'Just'..." Bono chuckled in disbelief. "Just..." He couldn't help but kiss him again.

It slid from light and silly to messy and serious in the space of a few heartbeats. Edge's legs wound around his, his hips rocking up, his hands greedy and grasping along Bono's shoulders, his back, his arse.

"Bono, _please_."

Two words, just two words, but the need he could hear in Edge's voice was enough to spur him into action. He couldn't let him go, not entirely, so Bono fumbled in the drawer for what he needed – hotel lotion would have to do - without lifting more than one hand away from Edge's body.

He wanted to ask Edge things, rather a lot of things actually, things like how did he know this was what he wanted, was he sure, and had he ever done this before, but Edge didn't want him to talk, and Bono wasn't sure he could ask any of those questions without fucking it up anyway. And Edge was tight, so tight around his fingers as he slid them inside, first one, then two, that he was pretty certain the answer to that last one would have to be no, and it shouldn't have made a difference, but, fucking hell, it did.

Bono hadn't thought he could want him more, but he'd been wrong about that too. Seconds later, and probably much too soon, he was pushing inside, wincing at the pain on Edge's face it was too late to prevent.

"Sorry," Bono rasped, making himself stop.

Edge's eyes were closed and he was breathing hard. "Don't stop." Beneath him, Edge began to move, just a little. "God, Bono, don't stop now."

He was trying to be careful, to make it last and not hurt Edge too much, but it was impossible to concentrate. The brow that had been furrowed in pain had smoothed, the eyes that had been tightly closed were wide open - how could he be expected to think when Edge was staring at him and demanding more? All he could do was give Edge what he wanted.

More quickly than Bono's pride should have allowed, he was crying out and losing control, shuddering helplessly while Roman candles fired up and down his spine. Once sense started to return he couldn't allow himself to look at Edge's eyes anymore. "I love you," he whispered, hoping Edge didn't mind like Adam did. “I’m sorry.”

Edge didn't have to fret that Bono would talk more, Bono thought, as he squirmed and slid, and then took Edge's cock into his mouth. He'd learned a lot from Adam and saw no reason why Edge couldn't benefit from it.

Edge was tense and shivering under his hands, his cock hard and wet. Bono licked a meandering path along Edge’s shaft, tasting him for the first time. Warm and salty and him. Edge shifted, restless, moaning softly.

He wasn't asking for anything, not yet, just looking down with his eyes gone wide and dark, watching. Bono couldn't look away. He took him deep and held his eyes while he made love to him with his lips and tongue the best he knew how, hoping Edge would approve.

He knew that Edge was reaching for him, could see the careful arc of his hand as it came towards him, but still, the gentle touch of that hand as it settled in his hair, so lightly, wasn't like anything he could have expected.

The first thrust almost went without notice; it was barely a push at all. If Bono's hand hadn't been on Edge's hip... but it was, and Edge did, and Bono moaned to encourage Edge to do it again. Carefully, he slid fingers deep, searching and rubbing, groaning when his efforts resulted in a sharp little cry.

Next time, he'd try to make love to Edge properly. Next time, he'd have some measure of control. Next time, he’d take care of Edge first. A thousand next times, a million, a billion. Edge didn't do just sex.

And neither did Bono.

He swallowed hard around the cock in his mouth, matching it to the deep thrust of his fingers in the heat of Edge's body. He felt the precise moment that it became too much for Edge, felt Edge’s control snap. With a moan that vibrated through them both, Edge's hips bucked, forcing his cock deep. Bono went with it, encouraging him with every touch of his hands, lips and tongue to fuck his mouth.

"Bono..." Edge groaned, arching his back. "Oh God, Bono..."

Pre-come was leaking steadily into his mouth now and Bono swallowed rhythmically as he sucked and slid his mouth the length of Edge's shaft. Close now.

"I'm gonna..." Edge's fingers tightened in Bono's hair, tugging as if to pull him off.

Without missing a beat, Bono reached his free hand up and grabbed Edge's, twining their fingers together. There was no way Edge was coming anywhere but in his mouth.

"Oh fuck, _Bono_ ," Edge gasped, gripping his hand painfully tight.

Another single, desperate, reflexive thrust and Edge was coming, crying out, shuddering and flooding Bono's mouth. There was no rush now. Lazily, Bono kept sucking, long after Edge had stilled, until he could feel his cock softening. He stroked Edge's hips, petting the soft skin, as he nuzzled kisses to Edge's hairy belly.

"Anything else you wanted to talk to me about, Edge?"

Edge laughed. It was a gorgeous sound. "I think that was pretty much it."

Bono wriggled his way back up Edge's body, helping himself to various irresistible bits of him on the way. It felt madly, crazily right to be here with him like this. He knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was how he felt and he couldn't hide it.

Didn't want to.

He arranged himself along Edge's side, draping an arm and a leg over him, needing to stay close. "Is this okay?" he asked, suddenly unsure.

Edge's arms came around him and pulled him closer. "Very okay."

"Are we okay?"

A stupid question that even Bono couldn't believe he'd asked; he didn't have to look to know Edge was rolling his eyes. Nor was it a surprise that Edge couldn't hold back the sarcasm. "I won't be picking out flowers with you."

"We're not that gay, The Edge?"

"No, we're not."

"So we're cock-sucking gay, just not picking-out-flowers gay," Bono teased, propping himself up on one elbow to wait for the inevitable reaction. He didn't need to wait long. A second later, he was flat on his back with Edge on top of him, trying to suppress a smile and failing quite spectacularly. "Wouldn't want to be unclear about anything," Bono added with a grin, and a stroke of one hand down the length of Edge's back.

"No, we wouldn't want to be unclear about anything," Edge said quietly.

There were those layers and nuances again, same as ever. "I love you," Bono said. "You can be very clear about that."

"No more playing around? No more games?"

"No more games." Bono palmed his cheek, kissed him softly. He dared another grin. "I always want to be straight with you." Another kiss, because he couldn't help himself. "In a strictly metaphorical sense."

Edge's eyes crinkled delightfully. "As long as it's strictly metaphorical."

Dear God, he was beautiful. "Love me?" Bono asked with a little pang of vulnerability in his voice he couldn't disguise.

"Do I or will I?" Edge was doing the teasing now, but Bono could see the answer in his eyes.

The giddy lightness was returning. "Can I have both?"

"Always."

the end 


End file.
